Storm
by TardisWitch
Summary: Based on Celtic Thunder's album "Storm." Essentially the same story translated from musical form to narrative.
1. Chapter 1: Outside looking in

It was dark in the town and everyone was sleeping as the gypsy king, Ryan, led his fellows across the bridge and stealthily entered. He allowed them to go wherever and take whatever they wanted as long as they weren't caught, and lived by the same philosophy himself.

He crept down a street, peering into windows, gauging the value of objects inside. There wasn't much worth anything, as usual, but he still kept his eyes peeled.

Eventually he came to a house he knew well and vaulted himself through the window. He made a soft thump hitting the ground but rather than wincing, he almost smiled at the noise. He could almost taste the fear of the house's residents when he made those small noises; the suspected him being there, but were too afraid to do anything about it. Oh how they feared the 'dark and deadly' stranger.

The room he had entered was the sleeping quarters of a girl, one of the most vain girls in the small village; she always had new trinkets that could catch quite a pretty penny.

Ryan crossed the room and opened her chest. Almost immediately his eyes caught the gleam of metal and he extracted a golden medallion.

He pocketed it, and after deciding he wanted nothing else, he started back to the window. When he was almost there, a floor board creaked, and he stiffened as he heard the bed covers rustle.

"Ryan?" he heard a sleepy voice say.

He turned slightly to see Julianne propped up in bed, the moonlight illuminating her face. Goodness, she was beautiful.

"Go to sleep Julianne," he whispered, putting a finger to his lips, "Not tonight."

She smiled and nodded sleepily and lay back down.

Ryan jumped back outside and smiled as he thought of the deal they'd made. He looked at the moon, only a few more days until it was full, and then-

His thoughts were interrupted by the shout of "GYPSY!" followed by that of "Thieves!"

He cursed and began running for the bridge, what idiot had gotten caught? And what villager had actually had the nerve to call out? Knowing the gypsies' lack of morals, whoever it had been wouldn't bother them anymore.

He cleared the bridge and saw his sister exit their wagon.

"Ryan!" she called, "What happened?"

"I don't know," he said angrily, "One of the new boys was probably being careless." He shook his head, "They'll get what's coming to them," He said menacingly, "But never mind them, I wanted to show you this," he reached into his pocket and brought out the gold medallion.

Her mouth fell open. "Oh Ryan, it's beautiful!"

"And it's all for you Caroline," he said as he fastened it around her neck, "Now hurry, I want to be back inside the wagon before the villagers arrive."

Caroline sighed and looked across the river. "Still shut outside."

"Looking in," Ryan finished with a resigned nod. "But we've got our share," he reminded her, gesturing to her new necklace. She shrugged, dissatisfied. He shook his head and grabbed her hand, then led her into the wagon.


	2. Chapter 2: When You're 18

Damian rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stood groggily. He looked around him; people were rushing about past his sleeping spot on the ground, all carrying torches and other such things. People were shouting, but he couldn't quite pick out what.

Then he saw them; the gypsies, racing across the river to the safety of their camp.

It was an odd sight, usually, the villagers didn't really bother the gypsies, even if they stole from them, the gypsies were hardly likely to obey the law and were known for their skill with knives. Most of the villagers chose to leave well enough alone.

Then he noticed the man in the front of the mob; the newcomer, Kieth, he thought he'd heard someone call him. That was about all anyone knew about him. One day he'd shown up in town, with very fine clothing and mannerisms that didn't match at all. No one knew where he came from, and no one really asked.

Now he was leading the village in actually taking a stand against the gypsies and Damian didn't know what to make of it.

He shrugged and contemplated whether or not he should try to go back to sleep, but a new day was dawning, and he somehow didn't feel tired.

He dusted himself off and attempted to straighten the clothes he had slept in, although it was a lost cause. Then he headed down the road toward the tavern.

He was surprised when he got there to find it already half filled It was early but he supposed he wasn't the only one who didn't feel like sleeping after the gypsy raid.

He dropped into a chair at an empty table. Almost immediately, Hayley-Jo, one of the serving girls, sat across from him and slid him a mug.

Damian grimaced, "I have no way to pay for this," he said.

"I know," was her only answer.

Damian gave a small half-smile. Being the town's homeless kid, he hardly ever had a way to pay for anything. No one in the town was quite sure where he'd come from, at least, not as far as they'd told him, but they almost all had participated in raising him. He had tons of "brothers," and "uncles," Hayley-Jo was like one of his sisters. They'd all gotten used to taking car of him.

Which was something he was secretly starting to resent.

"Thanks a ton," he said, trying not to sound sarcastic, he really was grateful. He took a swig from the mug. "You know," he said, "I'm 18 now."

"Really?" Hayley-Jo responded.

"Yup, as of yesterday," Damian nodded proudly.

"Do you even know when your birthday is?" she said teasingly.

"Maybe," he drank some more, avoiding eye contact. She chuckled softly. Damian set his mug back down. "Seriously though, I _am_ 18 years old." He assured her.

"Alright," she said, still sounding skeptical. "Well, in that case, congratulations, you've made it this far." She raised her own mug in salute. Damian laughed and did the same. They both took long draughts and set their mugs down simultaneously.

"Got any plans, now that you're all grown up?" She asked.

Damian sighed. "I'm not sure. I think I want to travel. Go some place new, see the world, you know what I mean."

"Yeah I do," she said, "The world is so much bigger than our little town."

"Exactly!" Damian said, sitting forward on his chair. "Everyone here seems so content to just stay. It's insane!"

She huffed in agreement. "What's made you so eager to leave?"

"I don't know, I just feel... ready, you know what I mean?" He leaned back on his chair, a foot on the table.

"Ready?" she repeated. "Ready for what?"

"Things," he said, "Life in general I suppose. Living," he paused, "Love," he added softly.

He heard someone behind him guffaw. He turned to see who it was.

"I'm sorry," Barry said, "But did you just say that _you_ were ready for _love_?" he asked, clearly amused.

"It's not polite to listen to other people's conversations." Hayley-Jo chastised.

"So what if I did?" Damian said defensively.

"Oh, nothing," Barry said, "Love is just, more complicated than you think."

"And overrated," Neil, who was also at the table, put in, "If I were you I wouldn't worry about it."

"Just wait," some else said, "It'll come."

"What's your hurry anyway?" Declan added, "You're just 18."

Damian turned back angrily and stared into his mug. This was exactly the attitude he hated, all of the people treating him like a child. Like he was oblivious to the ways of the world. They were all so _amused_ by him, he was man now, he should be respected.

He drained his mug, slammed it down, and left the tavern.

He didn't notice that Hayley-Jo had followed him out until she touched his shoulder.

"Don't pay them any mind," she said.

"They don't know what they're talking about!" he said angrily.

"Precisely," she agreed, "You've got more of the answers."

"And I'm _only_ 18," he said sarcastically.


End file.
